


Trouble Getting to Paradise

by Magical_Bucket



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens), Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Declarations Of Love, Drunk Crowley (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Fights, Heavy Angst, Holy Water, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt Crowley, Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Sad Crowley (Good Omens), Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:28:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25992922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magical_Bucket/pseuds/Magical_Bucket
Summary: "Aziraphale, angel...I do what I do because, well, I love you."Crowley Loves Aziraphale and has for the past 6,000 years. What's to happen when the angel he's trying to confess to doesn't believe him?
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 36
Kudos: 159





	1. Crowley

**Author's Note:**

> MIND THE TAGS! MIND THE TAGS! MIND THE TAGS!
> 
> TW: thoughts of suicide, suicide attempt in a later chapter
> 
> Something I don't usually do, this fic will be split into either 3 or 4 parts, I'm not sure how many yet. The next update will be next week!

Crowley had never felt more free after the apocalypse was diverted. No more Hell looking over his shoulder, no more assignments, no more paperwork, just him and Aziraphale doing whatever they pleased. They'd been spending a lot more time together since they could do so without worrying someone would see them. Crowley had thought nothing of the frequent meetings, they just fell into place and neither of them questioned it.

Or, so he thought. 

The little bakery about a block down from the bookstore hadn’t been very busy that morning. Crowley had gone at 10 am on a Wednesday, so the usual breakfast crowd had died down significantly. He got to take his time with his order, and the baristas were quick to get it ready for him. Sure, the order wasn’t exactly complicated, just a slice of angel food cake and a black coffee, but quick service was always appreciated by the flash bastard. He tipped the servers well and went on his way. Obviously, he had gotten the coffee for himself, but the cake was for his angel. Something easy to write off. “Oh, this? I just popped in for a coffee and they had this thing on display. Thought you might like it,” and his perfect angel would be none the wiser. 

Well, that wasn’t quite right. Aziraphale wasn’t _his_ per-say, he didn’t belong to anyone, however, Crowley had this little issue. This issue was a massive millennia-long crush filled with nothing but pining for the angel but could very well be shortened down to love. Crowley was sure he was in love with Aziraphale. He would do anything the angel asked of him in a heartbeat, no questions. 

Not that being in love was a problem, but there were times it got complicated. First, there was the whole hereditary enemies thing. One of the biggest reasons Crowley had never actually told Aziraphale that he was in love was because they were on opposite sides. The arrangement along with their friendship was already putting the two of them in enough danger, Crowley’s love would have made it at least ten times worse. Then, there were the many times where Aziraphale tried everything in his power NOT to associate at all with the demon. It was a little more than difficult to make a good relationship when they had to distance themselves so much, not to mention the time it took for Crowley to recuperate after Aziraphale unintentionally shattered his pot of emotions, making him into a huge mess; also known as the holy water fight.

All of this was in the past, Crowley managed to convince himself. There shouldn’t have been a reason they couldn’t be together now that they were on their own side. No Heaven and Hell looking over their shoulders for the rest of eternity, no more tip-toeing around each other. Finally, Crowley could bring over all the little gifts he wanted without needing a good reason. He could just do, not worrying about who would see or care. The only being in all of existence Crowley really cared about was Aziraphale. 

The street leading up to the bookstore was the same as any other day. It was filled with people walking to wherever it was they were heading too, no one paying any mind to the bookstore or the demon approaching it with a bag and coffee-to-go cup in hand. The sky was perfectly clear, an amazing shade of blue painted across the heavens. The bookshop was closed, but that didn’t matter to Crowley.

Before he could reach the final step, the doors swung open for him as usual, then closed and locked again once he was safely inside. The bell chimed as it always did, but no Angel came to greet him. That was fine, he was probably in the back reading or doing yet another inventory check. Nothing out of the ordinary at all, just a perfectly normal day. 

“Angel, you here?” The demon called out. He waited a few moments. No response. “Aziraphale!” Still nothing. Well, maybe he was just focused on a book. It wasn’t rare for Aziraphale to get so caught up, he didn’t even realize Crowley was there. He knew the principality was there somewhere, he could feel him close by. With all reasoning set out, he crept further into the shop, not wanting to disturb Aziraphale too much if he was nose deep in a book. 

Crowley peered around the corner, only to confirm his suspicions. Aziraphale had been reading in his usual chair, completely oblivious to the demons presence a few feet away. Crowley didn’t care about reading enough to look at the title, but he did pay attention to where Aziraphale was. If he was near the end, he would wait to pull the angel out of his little bubble. If he was closer to the middle of the beginning, he’d wait a few moments for him to finish the page before speaking up. Unfortunately, Aziraphale was in the middle of it, meaning he was going to say something sooner rather than later. 

Snake eyes watched the shifting of blue from behind the safety of dark lenses, and once the moment was right, the demon went and put a hand on the angel's shoulder. “Oi, Angel, I brought you something,” he took his hand away when Aziraphale jumped a little in surprise. Crowley had a fond smile plastered across his face at that. He held out the bag with the cake, “I ran by that bakery down the road to grab a coffee, and they just happened to have one of these on display. Thought you might like it.”

“Oh, why thank you, my dear,” the response came quietly with bits of emotion sewn throughout the few words. Crowley could only place sadness, anxiety, and irritation. Perhaps he should have waited a little longer, it always got juicy in the middle after all. Along with the response was a sad, disappointing smile as he took the bag from the snake's hand and setting it on the desk. Without the bag, Crowley went to his usual spot on the couch and took a sip from his piping hot coffee. A comfortable silence fell over the room as Aziraphale took the cake from the bag. 

“Oh my, dear, this looks absolutely scrumptious, you really shouldn’t have,” all traces of negativity were gone, replaced by joy. 

“Ah- it’s fine, angel, really. Don’t worry about it,” He waved it off. It’s not like they haven’t been doing this for years. Crowley’s always given him small gifts like this, not even the abotch-pocalypse would change that. 

The silence was soon filled with light conversation while two immortal beings enjoyed their food and drink. It was comfortable until Aziraphale finished his cake and directed his attention to asking questions. 

“Dear, not that I’m complaining, but why did you stop by the bakery?”  
“Told ya’ Angel, just wanted coffee,”  
“Yes, but there surely are more places to grab coffee. Not to mention you have many other favorite places.”

Crowley was able to brush it off by saying it was ‘on the way,’ and he considered the topic to be dropped. The topic did stay out of conversation, further easing the demons' nerves.

It stayed out of their conversation for all of five minutes, when Aziraphale had finished his cake. 

“Well, how about the gifts?” Before Crowley could interject, Aziraphale continued to defend his point. “You know I’m not an idiot, my dear fellow. Ever since the ended apocalypse,” a moment's hesitation, “well, that's not quite right either. I suppose you’ve been doing things for me since before we left our respective sides.” 

And that question was a bit of an issue, wasn’t it? One of the few answers that Crowley knew the answer too, but was too afraid to say out loud. At this point, Crowley was very aware of his love for the angel but Aziraphale had never really shown any signs of acknowledging it. Crowley did his best to make himself smaller without shifting into a serpentine form. The room sat in uncomfortable silence.

Aziraphale was quick to notice the shift in Crowley's demeanor. What was once a cool and confident sprawl into what only could be described as a snake coiling tightly around itself. The angel sat up, more tense. Any chance of the subject being dropped was non-existent and the snake coiled tighter around himself, avoiding eye contact. 

"Crowley? Why do you give me so many gifts? Don't get me wrong, I do appreciate them immensely, but I always assumed you were just tempting me to stay with the arrangement." Aziraphale leaned closer to the humanoid snake ball to hear the muffled reply.

"Shut up…" Crowley's voice came out as a vulnerable mumble. He couldn't think. What was he supposed to say? He'd never tell his angel a lie, that just wasn't who he was, but on the same token, his illusion of control was quickly fading. He couldn't hide his feelings for much longer at the rate they were going. He didn't even register Aziraphale’s words.

"My dear, please. I don't think I've ever seen you more tense. You're obviously stressed out about something. Does it have to do with why you give me things? You've never denied me what I want. Not once in 6000 years can I think of a time you've told me no." And that was the truth, neither of them could deny that. Aziraphale didn't even have to ask, Crowley would do anything he thought the Principality wanted. That was good, he made the angel happy and in return, he got to stay in his life. On the bad side, that also meant he couldn't keep denying Aziraphale of his feelings. He wanted answers, so Crowley would provide.

The demon uncoiled his limbs from around himself, already starting to rebuild the illusion of confidence he usually held. A deep breath from the demon and Aziraphale's shoulders lost a bit of the previous tension, only slightly relaxing. 

"I...I do things..give you things…because I…" the room suddenly felt warmer, while the cold-blooded beings body heat dropped several degrees, sending shivers through every nerve ending. This was bad. Very, very bad. He was already making himself sound a fool with his words, now he was surely starting to look the part as well. Nothing could save him, so might as well just rip the band-aid off.

"Aziraphale, angel...I do what I do because, well, I love you." The serpent was shaking all over as he spoke. His eyes were staring at the ground, coming to terms with what he said. What's the worst that could happen? "I've loved you for 6,000 years now."

Whatever he was expecting to happen, didn't.

"What are you talking about? No, you don't." Aziraphale’s voice was steady, unwavering, and filled with confidence. "Crowley, you're being ridiculous, now tell me the actual truth."

He didn't expect it to hurt as much as it did. Crowley's heart filled not only with the sting of rejection but also confusion as he looked at Aziraphale. "I'm telling the truth, angel. I really do love you. I don't have to hide it anymore, we're on our own side, aren't we?" For a brief moment, Crowley was afraid that he'd misread their relationship after the apocalypse entirely, but that quickly dissolved. Aziraphale had invited him over plenty of times, it couldn't be that they weren't together in some capacity, right?

"No Crowley, I'd know if you were. I'm an angel for heaven's sake! I can sense love, and I know there's none coming from you. There's nothing there!" Aziraphale was irate, growing more frustrated with Crowley's supposed lying. "Really, Demons aren't supposed to feel love anyways, right? It's impossible. Perhaps it's lust, but it wouldn't be anything more."

Crowley's heart was pounding out of his chest. 'How could you say that? I'm not like other demons!' He wanted to explain his point. How could Aziraphale not know that after knowing him for so long? Instead of saying that, however, he just stayed silent, trying to sputter out a number of different responses at once. He started shaking his head as an answer.

Aziraphale tensed yet again and leaned back into his chair, sensing the emotions quickly rising in Crowley. "I don't know why you feel the need to lie to me about something like this, but I won't have it." 

Crowley snapped, emotions overflowing him entirely and influencing his every action. "I DO! I'VE LOVED YOU FOR SSSSSO LONG, BUT I ALWAYSSSS WENT TO FAST FOR YOU!" he sprung up from his chair and began using his hands to influence his point. "What were you expecting for an answer?! That I want to manipulate you?! I Lussssssst for you? WHAT? Or am I jusssst a demon, so I couldn't EVER feel ssssomething like love?" His shaking stopped, surrendered to the yelling. "how could you sssay you understand my blessed feelings more than I do? We're on our own sssside, and you SSSSTILL don't trust me?" He took a deep breath to try and regain control, but it was too late. 

Aziraphale was surprised, to say the least, but he wasn't exactly happy with the outburst. The angel straightened up, meeting Crowley's challenging stance. "Listen Crowley. We may be on our own side, but you're still a demon and I'm still an angel. Nothing but our employment has changed! I'd still be able to sense any love you felt, but there's nothing!" His voice was gradually rising with his emotions. "YOU'RE still a demon, and I've never felt love from you or any other demon in existence. Even in hell, there was absolutely NOTHING! You may be better than the others, but you're no different!" 

"And YOU'RE wrong!" Crowley hissed. "I know my feelingsssss, angel," the word that usually came with such affection instead was dripping with poison and false hatred. "You don't get to tell me how demons work, you were in hell for a total of 5 minutes. I've been one for over 6,000 yearsssss!" 

Aziraphale got up and took a step towards Crowley, who took one back. "I don't know why you feel the need to be absolutely dreadful today, but I'm not taking this," Aziraphale huffed, "what you're doing is CRUEL, Crowley. You can't just lie to me about love and act like I’M the one being ridiculous! I KNOW you, and I know you don't usually lie to me."

"I swear I'm not lying!"

"Hush! And I'd KNOW if you were telling the truth!" If one of them didn't let up soon, Crowley thought, this could turn into a huge row. "Why are you even here, demon? I'm not going to be lied to in my own home, and especially not when you're acting so miserable! Why don't you just leave me alone?!" Aziraphale’s voice was loud, just a little below shouting volume, but it hit Crowley all the same. 

All the fight left Crowley instantly. Aziraphale never called him 'demon', or, at least, he hadn't in a very long time. To tell him to leave while doing so felt like a gallon of salt was being poured into the metaphorical wound. Crowley nodded. "Alright. Ok, angel," he shoved his hands into the right skinny jeans pockets, and left. He didn't want to fight Aziraphale, he would lose anyway. Aziraphale may have looked soft, but Crowley knew he was stronger than he looked. Crowley got into the Bentley, and drove home in a haze.

A few days had passed since the argument about Crowley's ability to love, and said demon had spent those days sulking in his flat, alternating between sleeping and tending to his plants. More importantly, he hadn't called or visited Aziraphale at all. Aziraphale said he wanted to be left alone, so Crowley did. The only question was, how long would he want to be left alone? A day? Perhaps a week, or month at most? Or would it be years like the holy water incident? Crowley really hadn't the foggiest of clues.

It took three days for Crowley to finally break and call Aziraphale. Three days should have been plenty of time, right? Apparently not, because he was sent straight to voicemail. 

"What the?" Crowley tried again, same result as the first. He tried again, still nothing. After that, he tried two more times with the same voice tone answering instead of the angel. Crowley slumped in his throne, feeling defeated and just a tad bit concerned. He understood that his angel was probably just upset with him, but he usually answered the phone. Well, usually, unless he was out of the shop. 

In a quick last second stroke of genius, Crowley had decided to go over to the bookshop and talk to Aziraphale himself. Maybe he could apologize, or even make his Angel believe that his feelings were true. He walked out the door of his Mayfair flat without a second thought.

The drive to the bookshop was quick, as it always was. Going 100 miles per hour will do wonders to knock minutes off of your drive time, after all. Crowley parked in his usual illegal spot across from the building, and walked up to it. Of course, the shop itself was closed, but that had never been a problem before. All Crowley had to do was snap, and he was in.

Except that's not what happened. Not this time.

Crowley snapped, then snapped his fingers a few more times, but the door didn't budge. The demon went to the handle, but he quickly realized the door was still locked and wouldn't open for anyone. Not even him.

More concern and anger rose within the demon. He could sense Aziraphale in the shop, and chances were the angel knew he was there too. 

"Aziraphale!" Crowley shouted as he knocked against the old shop doors. "Open up you blessed idiot!" He stopped pounding against the wood and waited a moment. "Please, I just wanna' talk," he mumbled.

As if he had said the magic words, it only took a second before the door was open a crack. Not very much, just enough to see Aziraphale standing in the door frame.

"What is it, Crowley?" Aziraphale sounded just as annoyed as he did when Crowley first arrived to save him in the church full of Nazis. Crowley forced a lump out of his throat, he hoped this situation turned out differently. 

"Angel, please. I just want to talk. Can we not do this on your front step?" The demon pleaded. 

Aziraphale looked up and down at Crowley, analyzing him before shaking his head. "I think not. If it's really important, you should have no trouble saying it here." That was it then, Aziraphale didn't want him in the bookshop.

"Fine, fine. Look, whatever I said, I'm sorry." Aziraphale's face softened just a tad, a smile starting to tug at his lips before Crowley had to go and fuck it all up again. "I don't understand why you won't believe me, but I don't want to lose you. Whatever it is we have, I don't want to lose it. Not because of my feelings." 

If the shift on the angels face was any indication, that was definitely the wrong thing to say. One moment Aziraphale was starting to come around, then the next, he was upset again. The softness quickly was washed away, replaced with the hardness it had been when the door was first opened, and the blue eyes rolled as he scoffed. 

"I told you, Crowley, you CAN'T love me. I don't know how you expect me to believe you when you're so adamant about lying!"

Crowley tried to interject, but he could only get a few noises of protest out before Aziraphale continued.

"No, just stop! I don't want to hear it anymore, just go away and leave me alone! I don’t want to see you." The door was slammed in Crowley's face, the locks turning and clicking into place to keep him out once again.

Crowley didn't try to knock again. Didn't try to talk through the door, call the bookshop. He didn't try anything, only turning to walk back to the Bentley. As a rule, Demons didn't cry. They were tough, unfeeling things that preyed off of pain.

Luckily, Crowley wasn't much of a demon to begin with.

Once he got home, Crowley had more time to process and heavily drink. Aziraphale didn't want him in his life anymore. He messed up so bad, Aziraphale told home to leave him alone. All the years spent by each other's side, gone just like that. Aziraphale was more than just mad at him, and what was he supposed to do? He tried to apologize, but that had failed spectacularly. They had saved the world, but what was the point if he couldn't have Aziraphale by his side to enjoy it with? 

Then, Crowley had another thought.

Aziraphale didn't want to see Crowley ever again. Crowley knew, looking on past experiences, that would be nearly impossible. They would run into each other in time, The demon was sure about it. Maybe Crowley would give in and check on him, or maybe it would be accidental, but it would happen. The least Crowley could do was do his best to stay away, but how? 

Crowley grumbled and got up from his drunken sprawl on his throne. The demon sauntered over to where his safe was and opened it. The safe, of course, was empty. Aziraphale had taken his thermos back on the night of the apocalypse, even cleaned up the remaining stuff that was on the floor. Not a trace of holiness to be found in the flat. 

Crowley's vision was starting to blur, both with tears and alcohol. His throat felt sore, but he couldn't remember if he had been talking or screaming. 

One thing was clear, he would need more holy water.


	2. Aziraphale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We had someone break-in last night. I don’t think they were a regular churchgoer, no one recognized him.” Mr. David had his full attention.
> 
> We head back to Aziraphale to understand a little more of the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: This is where the suicide attempt comes in, good luck folks!
> 
> I went through and edited the first chapter as well, and I'm working on the final chapter! Sorry for the late update, I'm going to get the last chapter out soon!

Two days after Crowley came to apologize, the book store was open once again. Not that Aziraphale wanted to open it, of course, but he needed to get his thoughts away from Crowley, as books and tea just weren't cutting it anymore. 

Aziraphale hadn't really been upset, not at Crowley, anyway. He was more frustrated with the customers than he had been with his darling demon. Truth be told, he loved Crowley. Aziraphale loved Crowley with all his heart and wanted nothing more than to protect him. 

The issue at hand was Crowley using that feeling against him. He could swear all he wanted that the feeling was mutual, but how could that possibly be true. Aziraphale could feel love on earth. He felt it from people all the time, but never from Crowley. 

Aziraphale just needed time to sort out his emotions enough to figure out a good way to deal with it. 

He was pulled out of his thoughts by a customer. 

“Mr. Fell! It’s been too long, my friend!” the cheery old man approached him. 

“Mr. David! How lovely to see you again!” Despite having very irregular hours and hardly ever selling a book, Aziraphale still had ‘regulars,’ These few didn’t buy anything, they just browsed and chatted. One of these regulars was Mr. David. “Here to see the spiritual books again? I’m afraid we haven’t gotten any new ones in since your last visit.”

“Well, that’s a shame, but I’m afraid that will have to wait. I’m afraid this isn’t a social call. I was wondering if you knew of any booksellers who would be willing to part with a few bibles? A few of ours were destroyed last night.” Mr. David was a smart man. He knew the disguised angel would never part with the books in the shop, but he would be able to give him great suggestions, He was always able to with any of his inquiries.

“Oh, the poor books. You had just gotten new ones as well, right? Well, I’m sure I have someone you can contact for more.” Aziraphale reached under the counter and pulled out an ancient book of contacts, along with an index card and a pen to write out the information. 

Mr. David leaned on the counter to watch him write. “Sadly, it was. It’s a shame, they were nice quality.” 

Aziraphale was mostly listening as he flipped through the pages, occasionally writing down the contact information of a book dealer. “If you don’t mind my asking, how exactly did the books get destroyed?”

“You know, it was the strangest thing,” Mr. David looked off into space, reminiscing. “We had someone break-in last night. I don’t think they were a regular churchgoer, no one recognized him.” Aziraphale had finished writing all the information on the card, and Mr. David had his full attention. 

“A break-in? Who would break into a church? Seems a little unnecessary, if you ask me.” Aziraphale passed the card to Mr. David, who took it gratefully. 

“That’s what I thought too. Though, I don’t think he knew he was breaking in. The poor man was hoping and dancing through the halls. We all just assumed he was drunk.” Aziraphale’s heart lurched. The man wasn’t stumbling or swaying, jumping, and dancing. Hot beech on bare feet, as Crowley once put it.

“Oh, my… was anyone hurt?” Aziraphale was far more concerned for the humans well being over the books at this point. No demon just went into a church without a reason. 

“No, no. Everyone was fine. However, he was able to get away with some holy water. He managed to knock over the container while doing so, and it spilled all over the books. We were going to get him to help clean, but he was gone again. I do hope he found his way home alright.” Mr. David said with remorse. 

Aziraphale, meanwhile, was completely and utterly freaking the fuck out. Out of his 6,000 years of life on earth, there was only ever one demon who had sought out holy water for himself. The only demon he had ever liked, the one he had refused to give the deadly water too, the demon he took his empty flask from the first chance he got. 

But why would Crowley steal holy water? Sure, Aziraphale took what was left away after the apocalypse, but that didn’t stop him from asking for more. He had done it before, after all.

Perhaps it wasn’t Crowley after all. Any demon could try to find holy water, not just Crowley. He didn’t want to think about the implications if it was his demon. 

“If I may ask, this thief…. He wouldn't happen to have red hair and dark sunglasses, would he?” Aziraphale had stopped breathing in anticipation, voice going fragile.

“Why, yes! He did wear sunglasses, despite it being night time. They looked quite expensive as well. Do you know him?” Mr. David’s happy neutral voice turned into questioning. 

Aziraphale’s heart had stopped beating, emotions quickly rising. Concern, sorrow, anger, everything just overflowed and took over all of his celestial form.

“Mr. Fell? Are you alright?” Mr. David asked, now concerned with how pale the bookseller had grown. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.” 

It took a moment, but Aziraphale eventually coughed to clear his throat. “I’m just Tiptop!” He had to call Crowley, and he had to do it now. “I, er- just remembered I have to make a call. A very, VERY important call, so if you could be off, that’d be great!” He stepped out from behind the counter to wave Mr. David out the door. “It was great seeing you again, Mr.David!” he closed the door leaving a very confused Mr. David on the street. Aziraphale turned to the rest of the shop, “If I could have your attention, everyone,” He announced to the rest of the customers, “We are now closed! Please leave.” He made his way back to the counter, watching as some left while others looked confused. He turned to look at those who remained. “Now, if you please,” he spoke powerfully enough to compel the few to move to the door. Aziraphale followed them out, making sure to switch the sign to closed and lock the door behind him.

As soon as it was safe and the angel was alone, he went to the back and used the old phone to call Crowley. “Oh; pick up, pick up, pick up,” He began muttering to himself. 

_” This is Anthony Crowley. You know what to do, do it with style.”_ followed by the beep. Tears began to well up in Aziraphale’s eyes. He couldn’t have been too late, he wouldn’t accept that. Crowley claimed he loved him, he couldn’t just LEAVE him! The Demon swore that he wouldn’t use holy water to end himself, he trusted him. This couldn’t be it.

Aziraphale only let a few tears go before he pulled himself together again. He would be no help to Crowley (If he was still alive) if he got over-emotional. He was a Principality, for heaven's sake, he should have WANTED Crowley dead, but he couldn’t. 

With a final huff, he put the phone back onto the receiver and left the bookshop, praying he wasn’t too late. 

Meanwhile, Crowley was feeling like absolute shit. How could he not after wandering around consecrated ground in search of holy water? It had only taken, maybe, a half an hour at most, but it had been worth it. He had gotten the holy water, and soon he wouldn’t have to be a burden to Aziraphale ever again. He wouldn’t be a burden to humanity, or hell, or anyone. 

His entire body felt burnt. His feet, his hands, his eyes. Absolutely everything. He may have been slightly drunk when he broke into that church, but that was only to prep himself for the pain. As expected, the holy ground burned and pain licked at his feet as he walked. It had taken lots of wandering and trying to hide while hopping around, but he eventually found it and got a bottle full before getting caught and knocking over the fountain. He wouldn’t have minded if he got splashed right there and then, but that likely would have traumatized the humans, so he called it a day and went home. 

Crowley should have been long gone by now, but he had passed out shortly after stepping into the door of his flat and was now hunched over the toilet bowl trying not to throw up what he could only assume was his guts. The entire building had radiated divine energy, and because he had spent so long there, it ended up messing with his corporation. At the time, he knew Consecrated ground would hurt, but never would he have imagined that it could make him this sick. If he were to rank it, it would have been the second-worst feeling of all time, only shortly behind the pain that came with falling.

Crowley didn’t know how long he had been there for, he only realized he was still conscious when the phone rang and his voice recording began playing. No answer came, so he could only assume the person on the other end hung up. No matter, he wouldn’t be calling them back anyway. 

The demon groaned as he pulled himself up off of the floor, swaying around his apartment looking for where he had put his bottle of holy water. Not too long later, he had made his way to the small, empty kitchen where the plastic bottle sat on the countertop. Crowley let a soft smile spread to his lips as he sauntered over, and picked up the bottle. He hesitated, looking at the clear liquid. It was hard to believe it had been that easy. He supposed it was due to lack of security with modern times, but imagine if it had been that easy back in the 19th century. He might have had more time with Aziraphale, then. 

He took a moment to look back on all the times he was with the angel. All the times where he acted as they didn’t know each other, all the little dates or every time he had saved him from discorperation. How could he be so dumb? All the signs were there, Aziraphale didn’t even want to associate with him half the time, how could he love him? Of course, Aziraphale wouldn’t want him around after the apocalypse, it was a miracle Aziraphale kept him around for as long as he did. 

Crowley was calm and collected as he twisted the cap off of the bottle, and lifted it to his mouth, ready to drink it all down. The demon was so preoccupied in his end, He didn’t even hear the door open, or see the angel who stood horrified in the door. 

Aziraphale had been rushing to get to Crowley’s flat, and he only wished he could have gotten there faster. He didn’t bother knocking, scared that no one would answer. He did feel slightly guilty that he was breaching Crowley’s privacy, but he didn’t care about that when he opened the door to see his best friend about to down an entire bottle of holy water. 

Without thinking, his wings came onto the mortal plane to propel him forward, using a miracle to send the bottle flying from the demon’s hands and landing a few feet away, spilling onto the floor. Crowley let out a yelp, jumping away from the bottle as it went flying. Aziraphale was able to get to Crowley, wrapping his wings around them before the one in danger could get splashed. 

Crowley had initially screamed in shock once the bottle went flying, now he was just screaming. The holy water hadn’t touched him, but the burns had been aggravated with the sudden movement. He began to writhe and struggle to get away from the arms that were around him, but to no avail.

“Crowley! Please, just calm down!” Aziraphale had panicked and took a few good steps back before setting the struggling snake on the floor and kneeling down in front of him, keeping a firm grip on his shoulders. “You’re alright now, we’re alright.” His voice wasn’t firm, but concerned and broken. The angel could have sobbed, a second later and he could have lost Crowley forever with no chance of getting him back, and that was a very hard pill for him to swallow. 

Crowley's eyes had been screwed shut, still moving, trying to get away from whatever was holding him. His screams had died down to idle murmuring and pleas. “Please let me go,” and, “I have to leave,” and, “he doesn’t want me,” along with similar wordings over and over again. 

Aziraphale’s already cracked heart shattered into six thousand tiny pieces as he watched Crowley. He had seen Crowley through some of the worst points in history but never had he seen the demon look so vulnerable. 

“My dear, could you please open your eyes?” the angel said softly as to not shatter the demons oh so fragile soul. He released Crowley’s shoulders and instead moved to cup his cheeks. 

Crowley's eyes hesitantly fluttered open, but they didn’t look at Aziraphale. Or, he was, rather, looking at the angel, but they were feverish and unfocused. Now that he got the chance to really look at Crowley, it was obvious he was sick. His face was flushed, skin hot to the touch. The demons usually well-kept hair had been messy like it hadn't been brushed in days and his clothing was in no better condition. 

"My dear boy, please talk to me. You look positively dreadful.” Aziraphale thought he had gotten Crowley to calm down enough to let go, still leaving his hands to hover near his demon just in case he acted out once again. 

Crowley's eyes finally began to focus on the angel. “Aziraphale,” his voice came as a whisper. He couldn’t remember when the angel had gotten there, or had he gone to him? That didn’t matter, he’d failed. Aziraphale didn’t want to see him, he told him to leave him alone yet here he was. “Why are you here?” he didn’t realize it, but the serpent began to shake. “Why are you torturing me? You wanted me to leave you alone! You didn’t want to see me, so why?” There was an edge to his voice, a wave of false anger that mixed in with his sorrow. 

Aziraphale should have answered, but words had failed him. He had been so caught up in his worry, he hadn’t even thought of why Crowley was searching for holy water. Thinking back on the argument, he had said that, hadn’t he? He was the one who told his demon to leave him alone. He was the reason Crowley got himself sick and tried to drink a bottle of holy water. Crowley didn’t take his resilient reflection well at all. 

“Ah, you’re not even here, are you? Just a hallucination to make me feel guilty that I couldn’t off myself.” Crowley had averted his gaze from Aziraphale, now looking over his shoulder to where the water had spilled all over the floor, just a few feet away. Maybe it wasn’t too late for him yet, he could still fix this.

Without a moment's hesitation, Crowley tried to get around the hallucination to reach the puddle on his tile floor. Aziraphale was pulled out of his thoughts when the serpent tried to push past him, heading towards destruction. The Angel was quick to react, wrapping his arms around the demon with him. Said demon, didn’t react well. 

Crowley panicked again, flailing and thrashing in Aziraphale’s embrace. Though the angel was strong, so was Crowley. Why he was so determined to end himself, he had no idea. Fear began to rise when his grip began to slip, snake-like limbs flailing and getting free, trying to pull the rest of the body closer to the puddle. 

It only took a few more sharp movements on Crowley's end before he was dangerously close to getting away and touching the water. The angel couldn’t concentrate between trying to hold Crowley down, getting slapped and kicked, and having soul-crushing nonsense screamed at him. In a last-ditch effort, he placed a hand to Crowley’s forehead, using a miracle to usher him into a deep sleep. 

Almost immediately, the serpent's eyes fluttered shut once again and the yells died down into murmurs before going silent. The demon went limp, falling into a dreamless sleep. Aziraphale had imagined what it would be like when Crowley was asleep, he had taken enough naps to know it was supposed to be a peaceful thing. This, though, didn't look anything like that. All the lines and wrinkles were still there, outlining the stress and anger that lay dormant inside. It was unnerving, how dead he looked like that.

The angel took another deep breath and moved some red hair away from Crowley’s face. "May you dream of whatever you like best," he willed. It had worked, Crowley's face had rested and a small smile tugged at his lips, but Aziraphale wasn't satisfied. He couldn't bring himself to feel anything but sorrow as he broke down into tears over his loves motionless corporation. 

It felt like an eternity of clutching the mostly lifeless form as Aziraphale let his emotions take control for a little while. When he finally regained his senses, he could feel the divine energy buzzing away behind him. He knew Crowley would be out for a while still, but he had to get him as far away as possible in case he was still determined to destroy himself when he did inevitably wake up. 

Without letting go, the angel snapped his fingers, and the two had appeared in the flat above his bookshop, more specifically, the old dusty bedroom he never really used. Aziraphale deposited the sleeping figure into the old bed, making sure to tuck him in under the covers to keep him warm. Seeing Crowley safe and sound in the comfort of his own home should have eased his fear, but it didn’t. Not fully, anyway. With another snap, thick chains appeared to keep the serpent bound to the bed. Finally, just to be extra safe, he miracled up some gold ink to paint the room with symbols and wards meant to keep any demonic presence inside and safe. 

Finally satisfied, believing he had been able to keep Crowley safe from himself if he woke up. Aziraphale left his darling to sleep while he went back to the Mayfair flat to clean up the rest of the holy water.


	3. Paradise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is sick and Aziraphale has lots of time to think.

Crowley eventually gained consciousness alone in a room he didn’t recognize. He couldn’t even remember how he got there in the first place, but he somehow felt worse than before. He felt cold, despite the weight of a heavy blanket over him. Though the blanket was covering him, that wasn’t the only thing keeping him to the bed. His entire body felt bad like his skin was pulled too tight and had been exhausted with how much shivering he was doing. His stomach felt like it had been tied in knots, sending little bits of stomach acid and alcohol up to the base of his throat. 

However, this was what he expected. Actually, if Crowley was honest with himself, he expected the pain to feel far worse after destroying himself. If anything, he should have felt like every part of him was burning, but instead, everything was fuzzy around the edges and blurred together. 

With a groan, Crowley tried to roll out of bed. He moved a few inches before something caught and held his wrists tight. He tried again, but whatever was holding him didn't let up. He moved his wrists into view to see what was happening, only to see manacles attached to a thick chain. 

Right, so he'd been chained up and trapped in this room for some reason. Perfect. 

He tried thrashing about, pulling as hard as he could on the chains, but to no avail. He was already weak enough from being exposed to holy water and consecrated ground for so long, nearly every bit of strength that was left felt like it was being drained.

He came to one conclusion. If this was what being destroyed felt like, he could get used to it.

After a few hours of work, all the holy water had been disposed of, along with any remaining divine energy that still lingered in the flat. Aziraphale made sure everything would be safe for when Crowley was in the right state of mind to return. 

While he was cleaning, Aziraphale had lots of time to think. He thought about the past, what he had said, how he acted, but most importantly he thought about the future. What if he lost Crowley before he could confess? What would their lives be like if he did? What if he didn't? There were many different options he could have taken, but by this point, it only seemed fair to him that he talked to Crowley first. For all he knew, this entire incident could have ended his demons feelings for him entirely.

The angel couldn't get home fast enough. This time, he didn't use a miracle in fear that his ex-head office would figure out something was wrong and come by, but he still walked back to the bookshop at a faster pace. 

It didn't take to long for him to get back, but when he did, Aziraphale went straight upstairs expecting to find a sleeping Demon.

When he opened the door, however, yellow snake eyes were looking at him. 

"Who're you?" Crowley's words were slurred and heavy with confusion. 

Aziraphale was somewhat happy Crowley was awake, but something was clearly wrong. "I'm Aziraphale, dear. Don't you recognize me?" The angel took a few steps forward, the demon shifted a few inches back.

"Nooooo….. my angel doesn't look like," Crowley hesitated, squinting at Aziraphale as if he was trying to get a better look at the fine details. "He doesn't look all blurry. Looks nothing like you."

Aziraphale took a second to take in Crowley's appearance before he responded. He was flushed red, even more than before. His skin looked shiny and damp with sweat. Hesitantly, he put a hand to the demons’ forehead. 

"Oh my, you're positively burning!" He pulled his hand away before Crowley could comprehend what was happening and shake him off. 

It was obvious Crowley had just gotten more ill while he was gone, and Aziraphale didn't fully know what to do. They were immortal beings, so human illnesses never really affected them. The only thing the angel knew about sickness was from humans. The only thing the angel could think to do was miracle up a bucket Incase Crowley got really sick. 

"Perhaps it'd be best if you got more sleep. Lots of rest is good when you're sick." 

"M' not sick," Crowley mumbled as he wrapped the blankets tighter around himself, eyes already starting to drift closed once again.

"Of course not, my dear," Aziraphale made the chain a little longer. He looked at the metal around Crowley's wrist, seeing the skin had gone raw with how hard he'd been tugging on it earlier. Even though it was a small thing, he healed it. By the time he was done, Crowley had already fallen asleep again. 

Aziraphale put the bucket by the side of the bed so his Demon could reach it if he needed too, then left to grab a book. He briefly considered staying down in the shop to give Crowley his space, but it felt wrong. He left him alone, chained and powerless against any sort of attack. Thus, a chair had been moved upstairs against the wall by the bed, and an angel now occupied it, unmoving aside from the occasional turn of a page, or to look over at Crowley if the demon moved or made a noise. 

A few hours later, Crowley woke up again. This time, everything was a lot less blurry, and he could see clearly. The first thing he did was look at his wrist, which was still chained to the bedpost. He gave another test tug, but it still held strong. 

"Crowley?" An all too familiar voice came from beside him. Slowly, he looked up to see Aziraphale sitting next to him, book in hand.

"Aziraphale? What're you doing here?" Crowley tried to sit up a little, but the angel had his hands on his shoulders, laying him back down. 

"Don't push yourself too much, you nearly ended yourself, if I hadn't gotten there when I did-" he trailed off with a sigh and knelt beside the bed. "How are you feeling? You still look quite feverish." 

Crowley, for his part, wasn't sure how to react. He was sure he'd offed himself, maybe he didn't have the clearest memory, but he remembered going to drink the holy water. That had to mean he was gone, this was a hallucination or ghost meant to torment him for all eternity. 

But then, Aziraphale put a hand to his forehead. It felt just like his angel, he couldn't help leaning into the touch just a little bit. 

"You're still warm, but not as hot as before. At least that's a good sign." Aziraphale went to take his hand away, and Crowley whimpered. He had never whimpered before, neither was expecting it. Aziraphale's hand paused so Crowley could push his head back into it. He didn't want the touch to stop, fearing it would be the last time he would ever feel his angel.

"Angel," he spoke softly, almost sounding like he was about to fall asleep again, "why’re you here?” 

Aziraphale’s expression turned fragile. “Why wouldn’t I be here? You’re under the weather, and I don’t think you should be alone right now, my dear.” His voice was as soft as Crowley’s as if saying it any louder would shatter whatever they had left. 

As Crowley began to drift off again, Aziraphale took away his hand. That had been a mistake. As soon as Crowley felt the loss of contact, he fully woke up again and freaked out. 

“Angel! No, Don’t leave me!” The demon screeched, pulling at the chains and trying to get closer to Aziraphale once again. It was only once Aziraphale had gotten close enough to wrap his arms around him, did Crowley calm down a little. 

“It’s alright, Crowley. I’m not going anywhere.” Aziraphale wasn’t expecting the outburst, so he did the only thing he could think of. He held the shaking demon, speaking soft reassurances and stroking the serpent’s hair to calm him down and lull him back into sleep. The delirium had been worse than he thought, but the angel was willing to help his love through it. 

After Crowley fell asleep again, he stayed for a few minutes in case he woke up. Once he was sure his demon would be asleep for at least a little while, he rolled the demon onto his back and placed a cool miracled towel on his forehead thinking it could help bring down the fever. He left for a moment to make himself some tea, and write a note to put in the door of the shop. He replaced the confusing shop hours with a sign that read, ‘Closed until further notice’.

The water for his tea hadn’t even finished boiling before noises erupted from the upstairs flat again. Aziraphale set the tea aside and ran upstairs. As he got closer, he could hear Crowley’s weak pleas for him to come back along with the clinking of chains. 

Once Aziraphale reached the door frame, Crowley’s gaze darted to him, fever bright and sad. He reached out as much as possible towards the angel, whining and murmuring his name like a prayer. He went forward to his dear, bringing his hands into his own. 

“Where’d you go?” Despite having his angel so close, his voice was still pleading, fragile. 

“I just went downstairs, my dear. Nothing to worry about.”Aziraphale’s voice shifted back to the softness he’d adopted when talking to the sick demon. 

“You didn’t leave?”

“Of course not.” Aziraphale didn’t let go of his hands, he didn’t want to spook Crowley yet again. “My dear, would you be alright if I ran downstairs for a second? I left the kettle on.” 

Crowley took a moment but eventually nodded before slowly pulling away his hands. Aziraphale smiled down at the demon, bringing his hands back to his sides. “Thank you, I’ll only be a moment. Call if you need anything.” Crowley curled up on himself as Aziraphale went downstairs. 

While Aziraphale was gone, Crowley tried not to have another scene. He was way too confused, and he felt all hot and fuzzy. The only thing he was sure of was that Aziraphale was there, not mad at him. He didn’t know what he would do if Aziraphale disappeared again, he’s probably discorporate on the spot. 

Crowley was pulled from his thoughts when the bed dipped beside him. 

“Hello again, my dear fellow.” Aziraphale’s voice pulled him further out of his thoughts, and he scrambled out of his little ball to see his angel. 

Aziraphale was holding a cup of tea out to him. Craving the warmth, Crowley took the cup and cradled it into his chest. 

“Do you think you can drink it? It’ll help you feel better, angels word.” Crowley didn’t need any other convincing, before he brought the cup up to his mouth, letting some of the warm plant water slide down his throat. 

They sat in silence for a while, the two enjoying the tea before Crowley interrupted again.   
“You came back.” It wasn’t a question.

“Of course I told you I would,” came the response.

It took a few days, and lots of clingy whiny demon, but eventually, Crowley’s fever broke and he was coming back to his senses. The chains came off around the second day, with the promise that Crowley would stay and rest, not running off to get his hands on more holy water. However, there was a pretty low chance of Crowley breaking those rules in the first place since Azirpahle hardly left his side for a moment.

Really, Aziraphale should have been happier. It wasn’t that he was sad that Crowley had gotten better, he was quite happy about it. However, he was still worried. Sure, Crowley had been quite clingy when he was sick, but now that he was back to normal, what would he think? Would he even want to talk to him, or would he just disappear out of his life? To Aziraphale, it didn’t matter as long as Crowley was happy. 

However, he still had to talk to Crowley before that decision was made. The Angel had plenty of time to think about how awful he’d been and what exactly his feelings for Crowley were worth. He wanted to believe Crowley whenever he said he loved him (if he ever said it again). Seeing how Crowley reacted to him over the past few days, he was inclined to believe that his snake had been telling the truth the entire time, but he might have even still had those feelings for him.   
The morning he decided to talk to Crowley about the whole situation, Crowley had been sitting in bed, just waking up after a good nights sleep. He’d stopped demanding constant attention from the angel, so he settled in the chair by the bed. 

“Crowley, do you think we could talk?” Aziraphale asked.

“Sure, angel. What’s up?” Crowley sat up and turned on his side a little to face his angel. 

Aziraphale took a deep breath. He wanted to chicken out, just not ask him at all. What if Crowley left again thinking he was just toying with him? He didn’t know how Crowley would react, but he knew they had to talk. No better time than the present, as they say.

“Do you...still love me?” He looked away, not wanting to meet Crowley’s gaze. 

Crowley, all of a sudden, felt very uncomfortable. This was definitely a conversation he didn’t want to have, especially so soon after he got better. The last time they talked about this, well you know what happened. Crowley didn’t want this to end, not again. 

“I do. But I understand if you don’t feel the same way! I can forget about it, we don’t have to talk or even acknowledge it again.” His voice was rushed, trying to get everything out before it could spur on another fight.  
Aziraphale turned his head back to Crowley, shaking his head.

“No, no, dear. I think we should talk about it.” Aziraphale got up from his chair and walked over to the bed to sit beside Crowley. Said demon tensed up, but didn’t move away. “My dear, all of this… I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have brushed off your feelings like that.” 

Crowley began to calm down. There was no tension in the air, and Aziraphale sounded genuinely remorseful. “It’s ok, angel. Nothing to forgive.” He went back to his old habit of brushing off Aziraphale’s apology to him. Inside, however, he was really happy. Maybe they could get past this.

“Of course I should apologize! All of this was partially my fault,” he sighed. Now that that was out of the way, he could get to the big one. “Please, never do something like that again. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

Before Crowley could properly respond, he was pulled into a hug. His angel always found a way to surprise him. “Angel-”

“I love you, I’m sorry it took me too long to realize it, I love you so much.” Aziraphale’s eyes began to water as he buried his head into Crowley’s shoulder, trying not to cry. Even if Crowley didn’t want to be with him, if he needed some time away, he wanted to remember this. Wanted to remember what his demon felt in his arms, alive and safe. 

“Angel,” Crowley had never felt so happy in his 6,000 years of life. He returned the hug, wrapping his arms tightly around the angel. “I love you too, I always have.”

Aziraphale pulled away from Crowley’s shoulder to look at him, pure adoration written on his face. “Always?” 

“Of course. Ever since I came up to you on the wall and DIDN’T smite me. You know any other angel would have. And you even gave away your sword! I knew I loved you then, I don’t even remember what it felt like not to love you.” Crowley admitted. 

“Oh dear, for so long? I didn’t know, you poor boy.” Aziraphale let a few tears slip past, but they were quickly wiped away when Crowley moved his hand to his cheek to cup it. 

Without thinking, Aziraphale went for the kill. He gently grabbed his demon's face and brought the two together for a kiss. It was everything he imagined and more. Their lips synced together perfectly, and though he didn’t think Crowley used chapstick, his lips were soft. They didn’t need air, so they stayed like that for an entire minute before Crowley pulled away.

The two spent most of the day and night together like that. Laying in bed, cuddling, kissing, and talking. If you were to talk to either, they would both say it was the perfect start to their new relationship. It was all peaceful until they wanted to get up and enjoy the world they saved together.

“So, what now?” the demon asked, a blissed-out look covering him.

“What would you say to lunch? I hear there's a darling little cafe that has the best crepes in town.”   
“That sounds great. And angel?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.” Aziraphale smiled at him, kissing Crowley on the cheek.

“And I, you, My love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the one person waiting for this update, Thank you for following this short story!
> 
> This update was a little later than expected, But I'm proud of it. This last chapter is the shortest, but they finally get their heads out of their arses, so yay.
> 
> I have another thing coming out later this month too! Bye!


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